It Had to Happen in Snape's Class
by nerdybookworm
Summary: COMPLETE! AU. Set in Harry's sixth year. Voldemort attacks Harry in the middle of Potions class. What will Snape's reaction be?
1. Voldemort Attacks

Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, I would have written this into HBP. And I'm sure it would be a whole lot better, too.

**Chapter One- Voldemort Attacks **

Harry woke up one morning in early October, his scar faintly throbbing. Rubbing it with one hand, he sat up slowly. Though it looked like he could catch another hour and a half or so's worth of slumber, he knew there was no point in trying. Reluctantly, he dressed and went down to the common room to wait for Ron and Hermione. He slumped into one of the cushy armchairs by the dark fireplace and sighed.

His bloody scar had pounded incessantly throughout the summer and into the fall. He just hoped that today he wouldn't have another vision. They had been rather frequent lately. Mainly, they consisted of Voldemort punishing his pathetic lackeys for either failing to obtain more information about that blasted prophecy or for not being able to find more recruits, but in the past few months Voldemort himself had been working vigorously to get inside his mind. However, his Occlumency skills had improved greatly, with intense lessons over the summer with Dumbledore, Snape (to their mutual distaste), and the surprisingly grandmotherly Emmeline Vance. While his relationship with Dumbledore was relatively the same as usual, lessons with Snape (which were also getting more and more common due to Dumbledore's busy schedule) were cold and straight to the point. Snape just seemed to want the lesson to be over as soon as possible. The same went for Potions class, which was fine with Harry.

Finally, Hermione trudged down the girls' staircase, her usual book-filled bag in tow, and minutes later Ron came down, yawning widely. The trio made their way to the Great Hall silently, but as Harry was putting kippers on his plate, Hermione asked, with concern etched on her face, "Did you sleep any better last night?"

"Of course not," Harry replied bitterly. He hadn't had a decent night's sleep that wasn't induced by a Dreamless Sleep potion in months. Madam Pomfrey didn't want to risk his becoming addicted to the powerful potion, though Harry had entertained many thoughts that involved his stealing down to the Hospital Wing in his Invisibility Cloak and nicking a few bottles of what he so desperately wanted.

"Harry," Hermione began, then hesitated. "You really ought to talk to Madam Pomfrey. There has to be another sleeping potion out there... or maybe she could ask Professor Snape to make you one."

Ron snorted. "Right, and Snape'll do that the day he regrets the way he's treated us, too."

"Well, he did make the Wolfsbane for Lupin - "

"Yeah, but under Dumbledore's orders," Harry interjected before an argument could snowball. "Dumbledore might do that again for me, but I'd just as soon not take anything Snape makes... maybe Muggle sleeping pills would work?" he mused thoughtfully.

"Well," Hermione replied as owls began to swoop among the students, "in any case, you need to talk to someone." She then immersed herself in the front page of the Daily Prophet, which had just been dropped onto her plate of bacon.

"Yeah," Harry said vaguely, rubbing his prickling scar and staring distastefully at the bit of food on his plate. His stomach twisted as he watched Ron shovel a mountain of pancakes into his mouth.

Half an hour later they found themselves headed toward their first classes. Ron departed for the Gryffindor common room for his free period while Harry and Hermione continued down to the dungeons for Potions.

Harry and Hermione were the only two Gryffindors in N.E.W.T.-level Potions now. The rest of the class consisted of Terry Boot and a few of his fellow Ravenclaws, Susan Bones, the lone Hufflepuff, and Draco Malfoy, along with about half a dozen more Slytherins. Harry was quite sure that most of them, if not all, had slid into the class on Snape's favoritism.

"Hey, Potter." Malfoy whispered as they slid into their usual seats toward the back, "I'd watch your back today if I were you, I sure would hate to see you in the hospital wing yet again."

"I'm touched. But, you know, I might be a little more scared if you hadn't threatened me with the exact same thing the other day," Harry retorted. "Nothing happened then, either."

Malfoy flushed and opened his mouth, but at that moment Snape swept into the room. He settled for a truly malevolent glare that would have unnerved Harry if he hadn't already been exposed to it by both Uncle Vernon and Snape far too many times. He also had way too much on his mind to worry about that bloody git.

Harry's scar was definitely feeling worse. He set his jaw, hoping that Voldemort was just punishing a bumbling Death Eater. If it got much worse, he'd have to go get a painkiller. _I bet Snape won't be too pleased with that, _he thought idly.

The students fell silent as Snape stood at his desk, clearly waiting for the Slytherins' chatter to subside. Ignoring the glares he received for this obvious display of favoritism, he flicked his wand, making a list of ingredients appear on the blackboard. "Today you will attempt to make the Pain Soothing Elixir, a difficult potion that will require your complete concentration… I doubt that many of you will manage it." Scanning the class with a smirk, he continued. "When you finish and bottle your sample, be sure to leave your remaining potion in your cauldron, so that I can collect any drinkable concoctions. Madam Pomfrey has notified me that she is running low on pain potions; apparently someone has been depleting her stores." He fixed his cold, black eyes on Harry, smirking. Hot, bubbling anger simmered in the pit of Harry's stomach has he glared at Snape with as much hatred as he could muster. Before he could retort, Hermione laid a placating hand on his arm. "It's not worth it," she whispered. Harry nodded tiredly and rubbed his painful forehead.

As the class began to prepare their ingredients, a sharp, burning pain began shooting up his scar, momentarily knocking his equilibrium off balance. He gritted his teeth and steadied himself on the edge of the table.

"Harry, what's wrong? Is it your scar?" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide and filled with concern.

Clenching his teeth even harder as the burning sensation intensified, he nodded. This could not be happening again, especially here. The last time this had happened he was in the middle of Quidditch practice, the day Azkaban was broken into. Luckily, Katie Bell and Hermione, who had been watching in the stands, knew their Cushioning Charms.

"Er...Professor?" Susan Bones asked timidly, pointing toward Harry's table.

Snape looked up from the Ravenclaw girl he was critiquing, and his eyes narrowed as he took in Harry's face, twisted in pain now, and both hands gripping the table as if his tight hold would bring him relief. "Close your mind, Potter!" he called as he swiftly crossed the room.

But as he neared the Gryffindors' table, Harry's knees buckled and he screamed, his hands flying to his face. Blood was visible between his fingers; his scar had burst. Harry tried his hardest to keep up his Occlumency barriers in his mind, but another wave of terrible pain overrode all coherent thought.

Waves of burning pain spread from his scar and wracked his entire body. His body thrashed and convulsed wildly as Hermione and Snape dropped to their knees, trying to grab hold of him. As the class stared, shocked, at the scene before them, Hermione grabbed Harry's head and forced it onto her lap, trying to keep him from hurting himself even more, while Snape grabbed his flailing arms and growled, "Are you just going to stand there like the insufferable idiots you are?"

The class jumped. Susan Bones and Terry Boot hurried over, followed by two other Ravenclaw boys. They grabbed his legs and arms while Snape kept one hand on Harry's torso, trying to keep him down. He cursed under his breath, whipped out his wand and began muttering spells. Giving up on that, he slapped Harry's face and shook him by the shoulders. Finally, he sat up and barked, "Reid! Go get Madam Pomfrey! Malfoy, get the Headmaster!" Malfoy nodded, turning his expression of shock blank as he hurried after the Reid girl.

By the time Pomfrey and Dumbledore, Reid and Malfoy at their heels, rushed through the door, Hermione was covered in blood and Susan Bones was actually sitting on Harry's legs, trying her best to keep him still. Harry was having difficulty drawing breath, as though there was something blocking his lungs. They knelt down, and Madam Pomfrey began to furiously mutter spells while Dumbledore checked Harry's eyes. After several tense minutes, Harry went limp.

Dumbledore stood up, conjured a stretcher, and levitated Harry to the hospital wing. He was followed by a worried-looking Madam Pomfrey and a pale Hermione, who was lugging hers and Harry's bags, leaving a shocked Snape with his equally shocked class.

* * *

Harry ached. It felt like he had been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse for days. Wearily he opened his aching eyes. The blurry outlines of Ron and Hermione were sitting on the right side of his bed, holding hands. Inwardly he smirked. Ron had been trying to work up the courage to hold Hermione's hand for the past month. Through the haze of pain he felt Hermione's other hand in his own, and wide straps appeared to be holding him to the bed. Every few seconds an arm or a leg would spasm sharply, sending a knife-sharp bolt of pain through his body. As more pain began to reach his senses, he closed his eyes and drifted off, not even noticing the dark shape of Professor Snape, who was watching him with a very strange look indeed on his pale face. 


	2. What Now?

**A/N:** Since this story is post-OOTP, and Amelia Bones was the most likely choice for Minister of Magic at that time (at least, on the fan sites anyway), that's who 'Minister Bones' refers to later in the chapter. Just to let you know. : )

**Chapter 2 - What Now?**

Harry was aching. He had been in a lovely warm place, but his subconscious seemed determined to wake him up. Blearily, he opened his eyes. The fuzzy shapes at the side of his bed appeared to be Ron and Hermione, doing their homework. Licking his parched lips, Harry tried to clear his throat to get their attention, but all that came out was some kind of strangled grunt. Immediately, their heads snapped up.

"Harry!" they gasped simultaneously.

"It's about time, mate. You've been out of it for two days." Ron said, obviously relieved.

"Glasses? Water?" Hermione asked briskly, jumping out of her seat.

Harry nodded. As he did, he felt something rub against his head. He tried to lift his hand to find out what it was - probably a bandage; he vaguely remembered getting blood in his eyes - but to his dismay he discovered it held down by a thick strap. Damn.

"Oh yeah, Harry, Madam Pomfrey said she would take those off tonight," Ron replied to the puzzled look on Harry's face. "I'll go and find her now."

Everything came into focus as Hermione wordlessly slipped his glasses onto his face and put a glass of water up to his mouth.

"Thanks," Harry muttered hoarsely after taking a long drink. "What happened?"

Hermione sighed. Upon closer inspection she still looked a little pale. "You've been here two days. In Potions Monday your scar split open - that's why your head's bandaged - and you went into some kind of severe seizure-type thing. It's Wednesday night."

"Great. Just great. Now it's back to everyone staring and saying I'm still messed up in the head." While the other students' and the outside world's attitudes toward him had greatly improved since last year's interview and Fudge's removal, he didn't trust them a bit. He knew that they could revert to their previous mindset the instant a contrary article was published. "Dammit, I bet Malfoy's having a field day."

"Actually, he hasn't said anything -"

"Must've known it was his daddy's best mate - hope it shocked the hell out of him so he won't take that stupid mark -"

" - and yes, there are some who still think you're nuts," Hermione continued calmly, "but everyone who saw you - well, except the Slytherins of course - is more scared _for_ you than of you. Yesterday, Susan, Terry, and the other Ravenclaws from class came by to visit. They know you can't help it." Her lip trembled. "It was so scary though... everyone could tell you were in terrible pain..." She squeezed his hand. "Even Dumbledore's not sure what happened. He wants to talk to you, but today he's at the Ministry of Magic with Lupin, who was here all day yesterday too, by the way."

"What're they doing at the Ministry?" Harry asked, curious.

"Talking to Minister Bones about changing the anti-werewolf legislation. They feel that other werewolves will be more willing to join" – she glanced around and lowered her voice – "the Order if they're free to travel and have equal rights," Hermione replied as Madam Pomfrey bustled over, followed by Ron.

"Quite right," Madam Pomfrey agreed firmly as she waved her wand over Harry and glanced at a readout that had appeared out of nowhere. "Well, Mr. Potter, you're doing much better. I admit I've never seen anything like your condition before, but you seem to be recovering nicely." She eyed him beadily. "See that you take this potion - " she handed him a little bottle filled with bright orange liquid " - before you go to sleep and I might let you out of here tomorrow afternoon." With that, she performed a complicated wave of her wand, and the strips of black fabric binding Harry loosened. Madam Pomfrey gathered them up and headed back to her office.

Harry grinned in spite of and stretched. It felt wonderful - well, as wonderful as he could feel at the present. "What were those for, anyway?"

"'Cause you kept spasming and shaking. You finally pretty much stopped last night, but earlier your leg twitched and sent Hermione's Transfiguration notes everywhere," Ron replied, sniggering.

Hermione glared at Ron before turning to Harry. "That reminds me; Snape said that you could make up your Potions work for him one day after you get out of here."

"So what did the old git do when I collapsed, anyway?"

"What I hope any teacher would," Hermione answered briskly. "He was very worried... he tried some spells on you that I've never heard of before."

"Imagine that," Ron said in mock horror, rolling his eyes.

"Well, anyway, he came in here and stayed quite a bit Monday night, and he came in yesterday, saw Lupin, and turned around immediately," Hermione continued, ignoring Ron. "I expect that Dumbledore and him are trying to figure out what Voldemort's up to – don't be such a _baby_, Ron!" she added as he flinched.

Harry yawned. He felt exhausted and his head was starting to pound.

"Right, you take your potion, and we'll come by and see you before class tomorrow morning," Hermione handed Harry the vial and kissed him on the cheek. "'Night, Harry."

"'Night," Harry replied as Ron lightly hit him on the shoulder.

Harry swallowed his potion in one gulp. Almost immediately, his headache and soreness eased.

As Ron and Hermione walked out of the hospital wing, Harry caught sight of their intertwined hands.

"Hey," he called out. They turned around. "It's about time."

They got it a few moments later. Almost in unison they blushed, shook their heads with a grin, and left. Soon after Harry felt the peaceful waves of sleep take over him.


	3. Changes

**Chapter 3- Changes**

True to their word, Ron and Hermione were waiting by Harry's bed when he woke up the next morning. Sleepily, he found his glasses on the bedside table and sat up.

"Morning, Harry!" Hermione said brightly. In one hand she had a blueberry muffin, in the other a small but rather thick book entitled _Wizarding Defense Lawyers: Defending the Oppressed._

Ron gave a preoccupied grunt. He was feverishly scribbling on a length of parchment; it was most likely a History of Magic essay. He tended to leave those until the last moment.

"Dumbledore said he'd come here today before Madam Pomfrey let you out," Hermione informed him, "and McGonagall said to let you know that she would try to talk all of your teachers into giving you enough time to turn in your homework."

"That's good. Thanks, Hermione," Harry muttered as the bell rang.

"Bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed in frustration as he stuffed his half-finished essay and quill in his bag. "Here's another D-"

"Well, Ron," Hermione interjected acidly, "maybe if you would do your homework right after you were assigned it, instead of goofing around all weekend playing wizard's chess and calling random Quidditch practices just because you're co-Captain now-"

"Hey," Ron interrupted hotly, "we need those practices! The new Chasers _have _to improve by Saturday's match against Ravenclaw, and Ginny wanted to practice Seeking-"

Both fell silent at the look on Harry's face. Both Dumbledore and a stern, although reluctant, McGonagall had agreed that it would be best if Harry stayed on the ground. So his co-Captaincy - the other Captain was Katie Bell - had been given to Ron, and his Seeker position to Ginny Weasley. She had had to leave her Chaser spot, which had left Katie and Seamus Finnigan with an opening for a new Chaser to train and bring up to standard. Harry hated not being able to play, but deep down he knew Dumbledore and McGonagall were right. But if he didn't get to play next year, his final year at Hogwarts, he honestly didn't see any real reason to come back. Not only that, but who needed N.E.W.T.s when there was a very good chance that the prophecy would play out in Voldemort's favor?

"Don't worry about it." Harry waved his concerned friends off. "Go to class."

They waved goodbye and left, leaving Harry to his thoughts and the breakfast Madam Pomfrey had brought him.

"Mr. Potter?" Madam Pomfrey said softly, rousing Harry out of his light sleep. "The Headmaster is here to see you." Harry sat up and straightened his glasses.

"Hello, Harry," Albus Dumbledore said as he sat down next to Harry's bed. "I trust you slept well?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry replied. "I think Madam Pomfrey slipped some Dreamless Sleep into my potion last night."

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I believe Professor Snape made that particular potion stronger, specifically for you. I suspect that he feared Voldemort would attempt to break through your weakened defenses again - which brings us to the reason we are both here. What happened in Professor Snape's class Monday?"

Harry sighed. He had been trying to puzzle that out for the past two days. "I'm not sure, sir. I'd been feeling ill ever since I woke up, and my scar started burning in Potions. It kept getting worse, and then everything went black, I couldn't keep up my Occlumency barriers, and I hurt all over. It felt like it did when Voldemort possessed me. All I could feel was him. Do you think he was trying to possess me again?" he asked quietly.

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment, and sighed heavily. "Yes, Harry, I suspect he was."

"How is he able to do that? The closest he can be to me is either Hogsmeade or the Forbidden Forest. I was in the dungeons."

Dumbledore sighed again. Every wrinkle on his tired face was illuminated in the late morning sun that was streaming through the window by Harry's bed. "I imagine he's getting stronger. He's very interested in ancient magic now, and he's most likely come across a few more spells that strengthen him. Or he's made a few of his own..."

"Then how am I supposed to defeat him?" Harry asked heatedly. "How am I supposed to defeat him when he's getting stronger everyday, but I still haven't got a bloody clue about the power I'm supposed to have?" He was shouting now. "There's no way I can beat him! I can't fight him! I can't fight him like you did back in June! I don't know how!"

"Actually, Harry, you can," Dumbledore said with a bite of impatience. "You have the determination, willpower, and skills, along with a bit more instruction, to defeat Voldemort. And I do believe that you do know what power you have that he doesn't. Think – what is the one thing that you can do that Tom Riddle cannot?"

Harry gaped, speechless. What could he, a sixteen-year-old Hogwarts student, do that the Darkest wizard in wizarding history could not? He laid back on his pillows, thinking about all of his encounters with Lord Voldemort. "Well," he said tentatively, "I suppose he can't understand… good feelings, like sympathy, and friendship, and … love?"

"Yes!" Dumbledore cried, "Love! Voldemort cannot understand love, just as you cannot understand his infatuation with power and gaining by any means." The Headmaster looked Harry straight in the eyes. "You do have the ability to defeat Voldemort, and not just because the prophecy says so."

Harry sat there, his mind racing. "Professor, you said something about more instruction?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes, I'll get your schedule from Professor McGonagall, I'll try to arrange it so that you can have extra Defence lessons during your free periods, as well as some extra lessons with me in the evenings, in addition to your Occlumency lessons. I think those will have to be taken over again by Professor Snape – I have my own duties, as well," he added sternly as Harry opened his mouth furiously.

"Er... yes, sir." Harry replied, feeling abashed and relieved at the same time. He'd worry about Snape later.

"Good," Dumbledore said, standing up. "I'll ask around at the Order meeting tomorrow night to see about possibly finding you some extra instructors. When you come by Saturday morning we can figure out your new schedule." Dumbledore had finally allowed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny (to Mrs. Weasley's great dismay) to attend the Order meetings this past summer, and Harry had gone up to Dumbledore's office the morning after every Order meeting since school started and watched the meeting in Dumbledore's Pensieve. Dumbledore would in turn answer Harry's questions, and later Harry would fill in his friends. "By the way, Harry, I've also got a special permit for you to learn Apparition from Minister Bones. We will work on that as well in the future."

"Thank you, sir," Harry croaked. He was quite shocked at this turn of events.

"I would prefer that none of this was happening at all, but we must take what life gives us in order to live life fully." The irony of Dumbledore's words was not lost on Harry. "Have a good day, Harry," Dumbledore said as he strode out of the Hospital Wing.

The rest of the day Harry alternated between dozing off and thinking about his conversation with Dumbledore._ Bloody hell,_ he thought, _Dumbledore should have had me in advanced Defence lessons as soon as I set foot on Hogwarts grounds in first year. Everything would've turned out differently... Cedric might still be alive... and Sirius..._

The bell signalling the end of classes rang, and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny entered the Hospital Wing about ten minutes later.

"Hey," he greeted them all.

"Hey," Ginny replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine. Where have you been?" Harry answered.

"I've had an impossible mountain of homework. Bloody O.W.L.s," she grumbled. Over the summer, Harry had gotten to know Ginny a lot better. She had helped him with his grief over Sirius, and they had become better friends. "Here's all of your homework," Hermione said, digging a huge pile of notes and assignments out of her bag and setting them down with a _thump! _on Harry's bedside table. "I've collected them all week, and you can use my notes. Maybe you can get started tonight."

"Er... yeah, Hermione. Thanks." Harry was definitely not going to do any work tonight, no matter how much Hermione nagged him to get an early start.

The four friends sat around chatting about school and doing homework. The other three had been quite interested in Harry's conversation with Dumbledore.

Madam Pomfrey came over around five o'clock, and proceeded to run tests on Harry. She gave him another orange potion to take - minus the sleeping ingredients, Harry hoped - and another to take before he went to bed. She put a smaller bandage on his scar - it was still bleeding a bit - and pronounced him fit to leave. "Mr. Potter, I do not want to see you in here until you need another vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion. This bed of yours needs a break," she said, her tone stern, but her eyes were shining kindly.

Harry grinned. "Thanks, Madam Pomfrey." He changed out of his hospital wing-issue pajamas and into some clothes Ron had brought him. He gathered his things and the group made their way to the Great Hall. As they walked in, the students seemed to turn around at once. Everyone was whispering to each other and pointed at him.

Harry rolled his eyes. "They should be used to me being laid up in the hospital wing after something strange happens," he said impatiently.

"Well, at least some of them are concerned about you this year," Hermione said diplomatically.

"Yeah," Ron cut in. "Besides, you're not only the Boy-Who-Lived, but now you're the Boy-Who-Was-Right-All-Along, too!"

Harry groaned at the bad pun. "Thanks, Ron."

They made their way over to the Gryffindor table, where Harry was immediately swamped with hugs, handshakes, and questions before he could even put his stuff down. He could barely get a bite to eat. Soon the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were making their way over, too. Ron just sat and smirked in between shovelling food into his mouth. Hermione looked sympathetic, and Ginny squeezed his hand.

The crowd dispersed, and Harry could eat in peace. Halfway through his steak and kidney pudding, he was interrupted by none other than Professor Snape.

"Potter," he said curtly, "Remedial Potions, seven o'clock. Is that a problem?"

"Er... no... professor," Harry added hastily. Why was Snape so keen to have an Occlumency lesson right after Harry was released from the hospital wing?

"Good. Don't be late." Snape replied shortly. He turned around and strode off as quickly as he had arrived.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked, his mouth open.

"I expect he wants to talk to you about why your Occlumency barriers failed," Hermione said. "It is rather strange though," she added thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Harry said faintly, returning to his dinner.

At half past six, Harry reluctantly left his friends in the common room for the dungeons. He had the right, he thought, to be wary of regular Occlumency lessons with Snape; he had had few lessons with him after returning to Headquarters (for which Harry was extremely grateful) the past summer, but even after mastering the basics with Emmeline Vance, Harry was still hard-pressed to completely Occlude Snape from his mind. About ten minutes later, Harry paused, just outside of the open doorway to Snape's office. Snape was at his desk, grading papers.

Glancing up, Snape muttered, "Come in, sit, and close the door."

Harry shut the door quietly and sat down in one of the stiff, black leather chairs in front of Snape's desk. After a moment Snape scrawled what looked like a D on the unfortunate person's paper and put the stack of parchment in his desk. Looking up he said, "Well, stand up, wand at the ready, Potter, you know the routine."

"Why are we already starting Occlumency lessons? Sir?" Harry added hastily as Snape opened his mouth. "I just got out of the hospital wing today, did Professor Dumbledore ask you to start the lessons again tonight?" He asked, standing up reluctantly.

"Potter, what the Headmaster and I discuss is none of your business." Snape said smoothly. "I merely thought it prudent to test your defenses, weakened as I'm sure they were by the Dark Lord."

"So, is Voldemort up to - "

"Potter, I assume you want to get this over quickly, I'm sure the Headmaster will inform of anything he feels you need to know. Wand at the ready… _Legilimens!_"

Caught unawares, memory after memory flew before his mind's eye: he was eight, terrified as Dudley and his cronies got closer and closer, chasing him across the elementary school playground… He was ten, and Uncle Vernon was shoving him as hard as he could into his cupboard, shouting about no meals for a week… He was standing in shock on the Quidditch pitch, hardly able to believe that Lockhart had just removed the bones from his arm… He wsa lying on his bed, fury coursing through his veins like acid as he thought about Sirius Black, his parents' supposed best friend and betrayer…

The familiar ache in his chest at the thought of Sirius alerted him to the fact that Snape was still in his mind. Gathering up all his strength and envisioning an impenetrable barrier, he pushed Snape out of his memories.

He was on his hands and knees in front of Snape's desk, his palms and knees aching and his scar throbbing dully.

"That was pathetic, Potter," Snape said coolly as he watched Harry pick himself up from the floor. "You nearly lost control, you aren't trying hard enough. Your skills have regressed to nearly the level you were at last year - "

"I am trying," Harry interrupted angrily, flaring up at once. "It's not like I want Voldemort in my head."

"_Haven't I told you not to say the Dark Lord's name?"_ Snape hissed dangerously.

"Haven't you figured out that I'm not going to stop?" Harry retorted furiously.

"Wand at the ready, Potter," Snape bit out through clenched teeth. He looked ready to hex Harry on the spot. _"Legilimens!"_

His screams of agony did not block out the words or the flash of green light as Cedric fell to the ground heavily… Sirius was falling through the stone archway, a mixture of fear and surprise on his face… He was sitting in Professor Dumbledore's office, watching numbly as the ghostly figure of Professor Trelawney sank back into the swirling depths of the Pensieve…

He was on his knees, clutching his throbbing head. Exhausted, his brain aching fiercely, Harry just wanted to go up to his dormitory and sleep until next Tuesday.

"Potter. Get up." Snape had come around his desk and was now surveying him dispassionately. "Go back to Gryffindor Tower, you are obviously too weak to focus."

Harry glared at him as he tried to stand up, but his legs weren't ready to support his weight. He toppled as Snape grabbed his arm harshly and pulled him upright.

Harry swayed as Snape flitted across the room, apparently searching for something on the shelves. Finally Snape pushed a vial of pale pink potion into his hand. "Take it, it's a Mind-Clearing Potion, can't have Dumbledore's Golden Boy collapsing in the corridors. Be sure to practice your Occlumency exercises before you go to sleep. I'm sure your fellow Gryffindors are getting rather tired of waking up to your screams." Snape paused at the door. You can make up your missed assignments Saturday morning after you meet with the Headmaster, Potter."

Snape swept out of the room with a cold smirk on his face, leaving Harry standing there in the middle of his office, his white face blotchy with anger, trembling as he clutched the vial of potion tightly.


	4. Getting Informed

**Chapter 4- Getting Informed **

Friday passed uneventfully, unless you counted the nosy inquiries, concerned questions, and awed stares from Harry's fellow students (or in the case of the Slytherins, snickers and mock seizures in the middle of the corridors). Although the incessant questions tended to annoy Harry, he would definitely take this behavior over the shunning he had been subjected to in past years.

Harry stirred as rays of sunlight filtered through the crack in his bed curtains. He stretched, wincing slightly as his muscles announced their displeasure once again at being flailed around; Madam Pomfrey had told him to expect soreness for a couple of days. Silently he got up, dressed, and left Gryffindor Tower. He bypassed the Great Hall; hopefully he would be done with everything by lunch. He continued through the winding halls until he reached the familiar gargoyle that guarded Dumbledore's office. After muttering the password ("Drooble's Best Blowing Gum"), he hopped on the revolving staircase and paused outside the door. Hearing nothing , he knocked.

"Enter."

Harry opened the door. Dumbledore was at his desk, scribbling on some parchment, the Pensieve on the desktop at his side.

"Hello, sir," Harry said quietly.

"Good morning, Harry. We have much to talk about," Dumbledore replied, rolling up the parchment. "Fawkes." The Phoenix glided over from his perch and settled on Dumbledore's desk. "Take this to Minister Scrimgeour," Dumbledore murmured, tying the scroll to the phoenix's leg. Fawkes rose into the air a few feet and disappeared in burst of flames.

"So, Harry." Dumbledore faced him. "Shall we dive into last night's Order meeting?"

Harry stood in response. He walked over to the Pensieve, and at the Headmaster's nod, took a deep breath and shoved his head into the swirling, silvery vapors. He somersaulted through the pitch black until he landed on his feet with a resounding thud in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. The members of the Order of the Phoenix were crowded around the table, greeting and chatting with each other as the present Dumbledore landed beside Harry. After a moment the other Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table, cleared his throat and called for the meeting to begin.

"Scrimgeour wants to know if we can assist in helping contain the Dementors," Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice reverberated slightly in the large room.

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, they are becoming quite widespread. I'll arrange a meeting with the Minister to sort out the details."

Everyone seated around the table nodded. After a slight pause, Bill Weasley spoke up. "The goblins have decided not to join the Order."

At once, the table erupted.

"What?"

"Whatever for?"

"Still holding on to old grudges, eh?"

"Should've known-"

"Wait a minute." It was Remus Lupin, who looked as haggard as ever, spoke up. He looked directly at Bill as the others fell silent. "You said 'join the Order.' We know they won't align themselves with the Ministry, even with Fudge gone, but I thought they had declared themselves against Voldemort." Everyone flinched, with the exception of Dumbledore. Lupin ignored them and continued. "Are they going to fight him by themselves?"

Bill nodded. "Yes. They don't want to be associated with any wizards. Ragnok said they're prepared to go on both the defense and offense."

Dumbledore nodded. "Well, it is not unexpected."

"So, we know that the goblins want to be alone; the Dementors are definitely against us, the Centaurs refuse to have any part in this; the Vampires are iffy; and the House Elves are too terrified out of their wits to do anything." Charlie Weasley ticked the list of magical creatures off on his fingers. _Must be in from Romania, _Harry thought. "So what about the giants? Anything new there?"

On either side of Charlie sat two people Harry didn't recognize right away. Both were clearly Romanian, with dark hair and defined features. The one on Charlie's right Harry wasn't familiar at all - _Charlie must work with him_, he thought as he took in the huge burn scar that covered most of his left arm - but as the other man turned his face towards the light, Harry gaped in shock. It was Krum! _How in the world does Charlie know him? Or did Dumbledore talk to him? _Harry opened to ask, but immediately snapped it shut when the Dumbledore seated at the table began to reply. "No, the majority are still in cahoots with the Death Eaters, and I have not been contacted by any who disagree. What about Madam Maxime and yourself, Hagrid?"

"Nope, Professor," Hagrid set his bucket-size mug down with a clunk. "We haven't heard nothin'."

In the silence that followed Hagrid's statement, a door closed quietly somewhere in the house.

"Snape's here," Mad-eye Moody grunted, his eye following something beyond the door to the kitchen.

With a twist of his wand Dumbledore removed the wards on the kitchen and opened the door. Snape entered a moment later. He sat down in an empty chair across from Molly Weasley and accepted the goblet she gave him. He eyed the contents with a critical eye that only a Potions Master could possess; apparently finding whatever it was safe, he swigged it down vigorously.

Finally he set down the cup. "I just returned from a rendezvous with the Dark Lord."

"And?" Dumbledore prompted, leaning forward.

"He inquired after Potter's well-being. I told the him that he had been ill, but I didn't tell him how bad it was. Unfortunately, he wants to try again." Everyone gasped. "He thinks that you -" he nodded to Dumbledore- "will have told Potter the Prophecy by now, and is determined to find it." Everyone looked at Dumbledore, who was rubbing his eyes.

He looked up. "Yes, Harry does know the Prophecy. I told him last June, but Voldemort must not know this."

"Do you know if he told Ron and Hermione?" Arthur Weasley asked, Mrs. Weasley clutching his arm tightly, looking as though she thought they would surely be better off without this Prophecy business at all. _You have no idea how right you are,_ Harry thought darkly.

"I do not know," Dumbledore replied. "He has the right to tell anyone he feels he can trust when he's ready."

"But isn't that the object that we were guarding all last year? Besides Potter himself? Shouldn't we know what it is? That's what got Podmore put under the Imperius, Arthur hurt, and Sirius Black dead!" Hestia Jones objected as Harry flinched sharply. "Don't we have the right to know?"

Harry turned on Dumbledore furiously. "Did you tell them?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No, Harry, the only people who know besides me and you are the others that you have entrusted with this information."

Relieved, Harry turned his attention back to the table before him. Emmeline Vance was arguing his case angrily.

"...that boy can tell whomever he wishes, I don't even know the Prophecy, and spent the summer looking through his head! I never saw it, he's got it blocked properly, and rightfully so!" she huffed.

Harry smiled. He and Emmeline had gotten to know each other well during the Occlumency lessons, and she had written him a few short letters since the school year began. They would never have a grandmother-grandson type of relationship - Harry wouldn't allow himself to - but it was nice to get letters from someone who cared outside of Hogwarts.

The Dumbledore at the table was nodding his head in agreement. "Very well said, Ms. Vance. I think that settles the matter. You must trust me on this." Hestia Jones didn't look like she thought everything was settled, but she didn't say anything else.

"On the subject of our young Mr. Potter, I would also like to address his training. We - that is, Mr. Potter and I - have decided to - er... 'cut and paste' as the Muggles say (Mr. Weasley chuckled quietly), on his schedule. I have already talked with Severus about continuing Advanced Occlumency lessons with Mr. Potter, as well as Basic Legilimency, and I need a few willing volunteers experienced in Defense Against the Dark Arts - Harry is leagues ahead of his class. Any takers?"

Harry looked at Dumbledore with both excitement and a bit of trepidation. It was finally happening. Every fiber in his being wanted to destroy the monster that had torn everyone's lives apart, but he knew he had the skills and confidence. He turned back to the conversation at the table.

Tonks and Shacklebolt were agreeing to come when they had spare time. "What about you, Remus?"

Lupin nodded. "Yes, I imagine some of the werewolves are tired of me harping on them about how Voldemort won't really satisfy their needs," (the majority of the table jumped) "so I'll just go back and forth for weeks at a time."

Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, all of you. In addition to you three, my brother Aberforth Dumbledore has agreed to assist as well, and I'm fairly certain the Defense professor, Thomas Heatherwick, will be of some assistance as well."

Harry snorted quietly. Old Heatherwick was about two hundred years old, even more paranoid than Moody, and reminded everyone vividly of Binns. _But he does know his hexes,_ Harry mused. Too bad Harry had covered most of them in the DA the year before.

"Wait a minute. We all know Harry is special, but what does all of this extra training have to do with the Prophecy?" It was Professor McGonagall. She was glaring sternly at Dumbledore, but she had a slightly worried look on her face as well. _What's she worried about? _Harry wondered.

"That's for you to figure out, and if you do so, Harry and I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself," Dumbledore replied evasively. "If that is all, this meeting is adjourned."

After a moment everyone rose and began to scatter, talking amongst themselves. Mrs. Weasley headed to the stove, followed by her husband and oldest sons, while the rest filtered out the door.

"Let's go, Harry." Dumbledore grasped Harry's upper arm and they reappeared in his office.

They sat down in their respective seats. "Questions, Harry?"

"Yeah. Has the Order always been this curious about the Prophecy?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes," Dumbledore replied, eyes twinkling. "Though I must admit that they haven't been nearly this adamant and forceful in the past. Also, Harry, I meant everything I said about your rights."

Harry nodded, grateful. "And why were Krum and that other bloke there with Charlie? How did Krum get involved with the Order? Who was that other man?"

"I remained in some limited contact with Viktor Krum after the Triwizard Tournament, and as he began see the growing unrest, I put him in contact with Charlie Weasley. Between us two and Miss Granger, we managed to convince him of Voldemort's return."

"Now, for the answer to your last question. Mikhail Romanov works in the dragon compound with the aforementioned Mr. Weasley, and will be quite an asset to the Order with his extensive knowledge and list of contacts across continental Europe. His contacts will keep us informed of Death Eater activity that Professor Snape is not privy to."

Harry nodded, lost in thought. "What will the Order do to help the Ministry with the Dementors?"

"I imagine that we will help respond to attacks, and maybe even help guard Azkaban if needed. Anything else?"

"Yes," Harry replied. "What do we do about Voldemort attempting to get in my head again?"

Dumbledore sighed, his face weary once again. "All we can do is watch you. The staff will be informed to keep an eye on you, and to send for myself and Madam Pomfrey if Voldemort does attack again."

Harry nodded in resignation. Would Voldemort ever stop screwing up his life?

"Now on to your schedule, if you have no more questions." Harry nodded silently.

"Good. I have talked to both Hagrid and Professor Heatherwick, and they have agreed to allow you out of their classes. During both of those class periods you will come either here or to a previously disclosed location, and either Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, myself, or my brother Aberforth will instruct you, depending on who can spare the time, and Professors Snape and Heatherwick will schedule times with you in the evenings. You will have quite the busy schedule."

Harry nodded. He would miss the free time, and he hated so many people giving up time for him, but he knew he desperately needed anything he could get.

"Very well then, Harry, I'm afraid we must end our meeting. I have a trial to attend in the Wizengamot, and I believe you have an appointment of your own with Professor Snape." His eyes twinkled again.

Harry stood up. "Thanks, Professor. See you later."

"Goodbye, Harry," the Headmaster replied warmly as Harry left.


	5. It Happens Yet Again

I 'invented' a spell:** comminuo- **_to scatter, weaken._ I think it works with this context (it's Latin), but if not, please bear with me. Thanks!

**A/N: This is a NEW chapter, compromised of the previous two parts of chapter five, and rewritten/edited as well. I promise that one day I'll get chapter seven written and posted. When I actually have the time, my muse is bent on working on the other stories it comes up with. Sigh.**

**Chapter 5 – It Happens Yet Again**

Harry walked through the relatively empty hallways, deep in thought. His mind was buzzing with all of the new information he had just received. _I'm clear to start more defense lessons... I'll be learning Legilimency... great, that will be a bucket of laughs... the giants definitely aren't coming, and neither are the goblins... Voldemort wants to attack me again... _well, that was to be expected... Bloody hell. How was he going to do this with the chance that Voldemort could try to enter his mind at any moment - and what if he truly succeeded this time? What would happen then? At any rate, Harry knew that within the next few days he'd have teachers following him everywhere. Again. _Great_.

As Harry's train of thought ended, he realized that he was standing right in front of Snape's office door. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he knocked.

"Enter."

Upon opening the door, Harry was immediately assaulted by a thick, purplish haze. Coughing and waving his hands around to clear the smoke around him, he made his way to the back corner, where the dark shape of a man was bent over a cauldron.

"_Comminuo," _Snape said lazily, effectively lessening the density of the purple clouds that surrounded them. After adding a bluish powder, Snape finally looked up from the bubbling cauldron.

"It's about time, Potter, ten points from Gryffindor. The instructions for the Bone Repair potion are on your usual table. My cupboard is open so you can get the needed ingredients. And yes, this is Dreamless Sleep potion, get your Occlumency shields up. The Dark Lord could possess you right now as low as your defenses are right now." Snape sneered, leering over him.

Harry paused for a moment and torn between anger at being caught, berated by Snape and renewed worry about Voldemort's plans. But those feelings were only momentary as worry pushed to the surface of his mind. "Is Voldemort planning something?" he asked quickly.

Snape looked at him disdainfully. "I am not privy to all of the Dark Lord's plans."

Harry sighed. "Whatever." He turned away from Snape and walked over to his table. _Fine_. He should have known Snape would be like that - seemingly about to tell him what was happening, only to retract it at the last minute.

The next two hours passed in relative silence, each person fixated on their respective potions. Harry was determined not to mess this potion up. He wanted to be done with this as soon as possible; hopefully he'd make it to the Great Hall in time for a late lunch.

When he completed his work, Harry's potion wasn't quite the neon orange that it was supposed to be, but it was close enough. "Professor, I'm finished."

Snape nodded and cast a spell on his now-steaming potion. "It's a Time-Pausing Charm, Potter," he said snidely in response to Harry's questioning gaze as he swept across the room."Let's see the abominable mess that you concocted today." He peered into the cauldron. "Potter, can you not read? What does line three say?"

Harry shot Snape a filthy look before glancing down at the text. "After stirring counterclockwise twice, add the armadillo bile while stirring -" He stopped reading, gasping as pain lanced sharply through his scar.

"Potter? What's wrong?" Snape asked.

Harry shook his head and clenched his teeth. After a moment he looked up, eyes watering. "He's angry," Harry gasped, "Avery... Macnair-" he swallowed " - Malfoy Sr... they went to the centaurs..." - he sucked in his breath as his scar flared again - "failed - he's punishing -"

Harry howled and fell to his knees, grasping at his hair as a fresh burst of excruciating pain tore through his scar. He tried to stop screaming and clamp his mouth shut, but he made a funny, sort of choking gasp and a trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Snape looked around wildly for a moment, trying to think fast. Bending down, he hoisted the screaming boy into a chair and conjured a long piece of fabric. He tied Harry to the chair tightly around the waist and ran over to the fireplace. He threw in some powder, stuck his head inside and barked, "Hospital wing!" A moment later Snape pulled his head out of the fireplace a minute later, and hurried back over to Potter. He was doubled over in the chair, face in his hands, blood from his mouth staining his jeans.

Clattering footsteps sounded outside the door before it was flung open by a red-faced, gasping Madam Pomfrey. It would have been funny if the situation hadn't been so dire. Snape turned his attention back to Harry. Madam Pomfrey was trying to lift the boy up, but he wouldn't budge. He continued to scream, and his voice got hoarser and hoarser...

Harry stopped abruptly. He stayed still for a moment, gasping for air, then he went limp. Cautiously, Madam Pomfrey lifted his torso up. Snape continued to hold him up as Madam Pomfrey checked his scar. It was an angry red, the skin around it irritated as well. Droplets of blood were smeared around it; it must have split open again slightly. Blood was smeared around his mouth, and was still leaking out. Pomfrey propped his mouth open, but there was too much blood to see how severely he had bitten his tongue.

Madam Pomfrey stood, dusting off her uniform and sighed. "Severus, could you free him and Floo him to the hospital wing? I'll go on ahead and get everything ready."

Snape nodded affirmatively. A moment later Poppy was gone in a burst of green fire. He turned back around.

Harry was slumped forward and to the side. Unfortunately, that was the side the still-hot cauldron was on. Snape rushed over there and lifted Harry up. His right arm and the side of his face were bright and red, like a bad sunburn. _Damn_.

Snape sighed. He removed the piece of fabric from around the limp boy and lifted him up into a standing position, reached down, and picked the boy up. He walked over to the fireplace and threw some Floo powder in with some difficulty. As he stepped into the dancing green flames, he shifted the boy into a more comfortable position and growled, "Damn you, Harry Potter."

* * *

Severus Snape did not like the predicament he was in, not at all. He could be resting in his quarters, the Dreamless Sleep completed and bottled, with a stack of abominable, ready-to-grade essays and a glass of Rosmerta's finest mead by his side. Unfortunately, the insufferable Potter brat had dashed any hopes of a peaceful evening, though Severus (unfortunately) could not blame the boy this time. He of all people knew that there was no limit to the Dark Lord's wrath, though the boy really did not need to add his idiotic, attention-seeking dramatics.

Severus shifted Potter in his arms – the boy might have been small and light for his age, but he was no pixie – as he followed Madam Pomfrey up to the Hospital Wing. No, he thought, he couldn't blame Potter for this, just as he couldn't blame the boy for his seizure Monday. Another reason that Severus didn't particularly like was that apart from the obvious reasons for being in this situation, this new event was making him question everything that had happened in the past five years.

It had been quite obvious for several years now that the Dark Lord wanted Potter dead – preferably by the Dark Lord himself – but his multiple attempts to enter Potter's mind this year had Severus puzzled. Before last year's fiasco in the Department of Mysteries, it had been quite clear what his agenda had been with Potter's odd dreams – to get the Prophecy. But this seemed like overkill.

Severus still had no idea what the Prophecy contained, but surely that was not the only thing the Dark Lord was after each time he forcefully invaded Potter's mind. Besides, they all knew the Prophecy had been lost, heard by no one. What made the Dark Lord think that Potter knew?

When they arrived at the Hospital Wing, the only occupant was an idiotic Hufflepuff that Severus had sent himself (only the worst of dunderheads could melt a cauldron by attempting to brew a Chilling Potion). Pomfrey beckoned Severus over to a bed and pulled the curtains around the small space. As soon as he laid the limp form down onto the cot, the mediwitch immediately began firing off Cleansing Charms. "Severus, I need you to bring me the antiseptic, a Blood-Replenishing Potion, the burn paste, the strongest pain reliever we've got, and a pair of pajamas; the Headmaster needs to be informed as well."

Snape nodded silently. He whisked over to the cabinets, finding everything the mediwitch needed. He walked back over to find her undressing the boy. Severus was startled to see Potter's ribs sticking out alarmingly. Granted, the boy had not been in the best health this year, but the boy still shouldn't be undernourished.

"Severus. The Headmaster."

Madam Pomfrey's sharp voice shook Snape out of his reverie. He nodded curtly, and disappeared in a burst of green flame almost immediately.


	6. Revelations

A/N: Well, I've finally updated. I hope this makes up for the long wait. ; )

**Chapter 6 – Revelations**

Severus Snape opened his eyes as he came to a stop in Dumbledore's office. A post-Burning Day Fawkes chirped at him as he stepped out of the grate and brushed himself off.

"Severus, what is it?" The Headmaster was seated at his desk, ink and quill in hand.

"It's Potter again, Headmaster. The Dark Lord has attacked again."

Dumbledore said nothing as he stood up abruptly and hurried over to the fireplace, though his eyes exuded chilling fury and power as he disappeared in a burst of emerald flame. Snape followed immediately.

By the time Severus had returned to the Hospital Wing, Dumbledore was already by the boy's side, talking to Madam Pomfrey. As Snape got closer, he could hear their conversation.

"…already taken a Blood Replenisher and a painkiller." Madam Pomfrey was saying.

"And what required burn paste?"

"He had a minor second degree burn along the side of his face and ear. You'll have to ask Severus what actually transpired. I've healed the inside of his mouth and the abrasions on his forehead. This attack doesn't seem to have been quite as intense as the last one; he didn't have the violent seizure again – though that could be because Severus had him restrained…" With that the nurse turned around and headed back into her office.

"So Severus, what did happen in your office?" Dumbledore asked, his blue eyes now reflecting worry and fatigue. Snape sighed and took a breath.

"Potter had been in my office for a few hours, making up an assignment. I was analyzing the finished product when his scar burned. I asked what was wrong immediately. He said that the Dark Lord was punishing Avery, Macnair, and Lucius Malfoy, apparently for failing to earn the centaurs' support. Then he started screaming, he didn't stop until after I had returned with Poppy…" Snape shook himself. "He was pulling at his hair, which explains the abrasions, and he bit his tongue rather severely. I tied him up so that he wouldn't hurt himself any further and retrieved Madam Pomfrey. We returned, and she examined him after he passed out. She left to prepare a cot, but before I could grab the boy he slid against that boiling cauldron, giving him the burn. Headmaster, this doesn't seem to have been an orchestrated attack. It must have been another vision."

"I agree, Severus. This doesn't appear to be intentional on Voldemort's part. This is more similar to Harry's visions earlier this semester. We won't know until he wakes, though."

"Albus – "

"Yes, Severus?"

"I just cannot understand the Dark Lord's reasoning for these attacks – there is no apparent strategy."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, I cannot see a visible strategy either. But you are forgetting – many times our deep hatred of our enemies and the need for their pain clouds the judgement of the brightest wizards. Voldemort is no exception, he chose this path long ago."

The two men were silent for a moment, looking at the pale boy, who was sleeping peacefully for the time being.

"Headmaster - Poppy said the boy was undernourished. He _is_ rather light for his age.'

Dumbledore's blue eyes reflected resignation. "I cannot force the boy to eat – I can only help him understand the difference between obligations and choices. Perhaps you should talk to his friends, Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger. I must owl the Dursleys again."

"You owl the Muggles?" Severus asked in surprise.

"It's school protocol to contact the guardians of severely injured students. The Dursleys have never visited, of course." With another sad look in Potter's direction, the Headmaster left.

Severus stood there for a moment, wondering if he should stay there or head back to the dungeons. He could hear the students making their way through the corridors - lunch was over. Suddenly compelled to stay, he pulled a chair up to Potter's bedside.

* * *

"Oh, Severus, you're still here." Madam Pomfrey was walking over. "I need to check that burn, it should be healed by now."

Shaken out of his reverie, Severus stepped back. He watched silently as Poppy performed a few diagnostic spells and Vanished the remaining burn paste, leaving the side of Potter's face a dull red. "He's going to have a scar on his ear," Pomfrey remarked. "No disfigurement, just another mark to add to his collection." She tsked, now examining the boy's bandages.

Suddenly the Hospital Wing door flew open with a bang, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley running full-tilt into the infirmary.

"Harry!"

"Really! Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley! Contain yourselves! This is a hospital!" Madam Pomfrey squawked, flustered.

"What happened, Madam Pomfrey?" Granger asked as she fussed over Potter.

"I doubt that mauling Mr. Potter will better his medical condition, Miss Granger." Snape sneered.

Granger opened her mouth, but Weasley beat her to the punch. "Why the hell are you here, anyway? We have enough to worry about without having to worry about without having to deal with an overgrown bat that doesn't have a shred of decency."

"Twenty points from Gryffindor." Snape said silkily. "Watch your language, Mr. Weasley. Another word and I will be persuaded to arrange a detention for you with Mr. Filch."

Severus watched the tall boy flush a deep red and turn around with amusement. As he retreated to a corner he could just barely hear the girl whispering furiously to Weasley, no doubt admonishing him.

The teenagers finally turned their full attention to their pallid friend. He could hear Poppy explaining what happened. Weasley left shortly after and returned with his sister. Snape looked away when Granger began to stroke Potter's hair. Severus hated tenderness. It had never been directed towards him as a child, and he had learned to hate weak feelings as he grew older. There was no place for such emotions among the ranks of Death Eaters.

* * *

Snape left the Hospital Wing at seven to eat and check on his House. When he returned to the infirmary, the children were gone and Poppy had retired to her office. He quietly made his way over to Potter's bedside and sat in one of the chairs vacated by Potter's friends.

Potter was no longer sleeping peacefully. Severus could see his eyeballs moving rapidly beneath their lids, and his hand was twitching slightly. He watched the boy warily for a few minutes, wondering is he should get Pomfrey.

Suddenly, Potter jerked awake with a gasp, looking around wildly.

"Something wrong, Potter?" Snape asked mildly, masking his curiosity and concern. Inwardly he laughed at himself – he couldn't believe that he was feeling concern for the son of the hated James Potter.

The boy looked as if he were having trouble speaking. "N-no," he rasped.

Severus knew he was lying, but decided to drop it. "I imagine that your tongue is stiff from the healing charms. It is temporary. Water?"

Potter nodded and accepted the goblet with shaking hands.

"Here, Potter, before you drop the blasted thing." Severus helped the boy tip the cool water into his awaiting mouth. "I doubt Madam Pomfrey will object to a Dreamless Sleep Potion," he said, measuring a dose into the goblet. "Can't have you injuring yourself again."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Snape wondered why he said them. Vindictiveness came to him naturally, as easily as breathing.

Potter was glaring at him coldly. He wrenched the goblet from Snape and shakily downed the violet potion. He fell asleep instantly.

Severus sighed and stood up, stretching. He'd worry about everything tomorrow. Right now he felt like having a large glass of brandy.

* * *

Please Review!


	7. Chapter Seven

**A/N:** Yeah yeah yeah, I know, finally! I'm going to try my very best to get this finished before DH comes out; keep your fingers crossed!

Beta read by ddamato.

**Chapter Seven**

"Well, Mr. Potter, you're free to go," Madam Pomfrey said, taking the hospital wing-issue pajamas that Harry had just handed her. "I don't want to see you for at least a month, or I shall just have to keep you here permanently." The nurse smiled kindly at Harry and walked back into her office.

_Yeah,_ thought Harry wryly as he walked toward the exit, _I don't particularly want to see myself here for quite awhile either_; he had just spent another three days in the hospital wing. Though he knew that he could not stop Lord Voldemort's vicious attacks, the knowledge did not diminish the guilt he felt for causing everyone so much trouble and worry.

Harry was almost out the door when he heard Madam Pomfrey call his name. "Mr. Potter! Don't forget what I said about eating!"

Harry scowled. The day before, the nurse had given him a lengthy lecture on eating habits.

"_I simply don't understand why your weight is so low, Mr. Potter. An active teenage boy like you should be a nice, healthy weight." _She had then turned to Ron and Hermione, both of whom she had requested to be present. _"I want the two of you to ensure that Mr. Potter gets three full meals a day and plenty of sleep."_

Harry's frown deepened. Though he was eternally grateful that he had such amazing friends that truly cared for him, he was too old to be mollycoddled and fussed over. All he wanted right now was to do anything but worry.

Unfortunately, Harry met two of his least favorite people right outside of the hospital wing: Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy.

"Well, well, well, look who's finally been released from the hospital. I'm ever so sorry for forgetting to send you flowers," said Draco, smirking, "Where's your sidekick Weasel and Granger? Snogging in one of the broom cupboards?" Malfoy glanced up at Snape as though expecting approval. Snape's face, however, remained impassive.

"I could ask you the same thing," Harry retorted, hoping that he could just slip past them.

With a sour expression on his face, Malfoy opened his mouth to reply, but Snape stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. Harry kept walking; just when he thought that he had gotten away, Snape called after him.

"Potter."

Harry turned around slowly, suppressing a groan. "Yes?"

"Remedial Potions, seven o'clock tomorrow night. Come along, Draco." Snape turned around abruptly, steering Malfoy into the hospital wing and leaving Harry standing silently in the lonely corridor.

* * *

October faded into November, and November into December without incident – Harry's scar had not even hurt. Voldemort was apparently taking a break from pursuing Harry. Luna Lovegood came by the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall one snowy December morning with the latest edition of _The Quibbler_, the front cover sporting a Death Eater in full garb, holding a psychedelic peace sign above the fluorescent pink, yellow, and lime green title:

_Inside Scoop! The Philanthropic Side of You-Know-Who: On Changing His Agenda to World Peace and Why he Wants to Teach Poverty-stricken Wizards Around the World to Ballroom Dance_

Once the laughter had subsided – Ginny Weasley was still dissolving into giggles every few minutes – Hermione pushed a large tureen of porridge toward Harry. "Eat."

Harry's mood instantly soured. Both Hermione and Ron had taken Madam Pomfrey's words to heart and had been making sure he ate at every meal. He knew they meant well, but their nagging was getting rather irritating.

The rest of the day flew by in a mad rush for Harry. Though he no longer had Quidditch to occupy his time, lessons from both Professor Heatherwick and Occlumency sessions with Snape took up most of his evenings, in addition to the piles of homework he had from his N.E.W.T. classes.

Harry had both lessons that night. As soon as he had eaten a satisfactory amount of shepherd's pie for Ron and Hermione, Harry drained his goblet of pumpkin juice and made his way to Professor Heatherwick's office.

Bald, with great tufts of fluffy, gray hair shooting out of his ears, Thomas Heatherwick was about two hundred years old, and acted just like it. Though he was abnormally tall when he raised himself to his full height, most of the time he was hunched over; he could barely walk even with the help of a cane. As a result, the retired Auror divided his time between the classroom and his office.

Outside Heatherwick's door, Harry knocked and waited. And knocked again. Seeing that the door was unlocked, Harry pushed it open and peered in. "Professor Heatherwick?" he asked loudly.

Heatherwick was at his desk, muttering to himself as he graded papers. Harry tapped him on the shoulder.

"Eh? Oh, there you are, boy," said Heatherwick, his voice raspy.

"Hello, Professor."

"Eh, what?" Heatherwick reached over a stack of essays and grabbed his ear trumpet. Though his hearing was practically nonexistent, the old professor's eyes were rather sharp, much to the chagrin of some of his less attentive students.

"Hello, Professor," repeated Harry, practically shouting.

"Oh! Hello, boy. Listen," Heatherwick said at the top of his voice, "I was telling the Headmaster about your progress, and we decided that you don't need any more lessons from me. He said to tell you to go to his office after your lesson with Professor Snape."

"Okay Professor, thanks," Harry yelled, slightly irritated that he had not been included in the decision. It was his education, after all.

Walking back down the corridor, Harry decided to go down to the dungeons; maybe he could have his Occlumency lesson early. Then, after talking to Dumbledore, he could get started on his mountain of essays.

Down in the dungeons, Harry listened at Snape's office door. Hearing nothing, Harry cracked it open and looked in. Snape was sitting at his desk, speaking quietly with Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were there too, doing what they did best: staring stupidly into space.

Snape's head snapped up. "What do you want, Potter?"

"I was just wondering if we could go ahead and have – er – Remedial Potions," Harry said quickly. "But --"

"Wait outside," Snape sneered.

Harry shut the door with a snap and leaned against the wall, rolling his eyes. Maybe he should've just killed the time somewhere else.

He was just about to leave and come back later, when Snape's office door opened. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle all swaggered out. "Have fun in Remedial Potions," said Malfoy, his voice dripping with false sweetness. Crabbe and Goyle forced their large, square faces into insipid smiles and laughed.

Harry ignored them and stepped into Snape's office, closing the door behind him.

Snape was at his desk, siphoning memories out of his mind and into the Pensieve. When he was finished, he looked up at Harry with a malevolent smile. "So. Not only is the famous Harry Potter so arrogant that he thinks he can waltz into any room he wishes without giving the courtesy of knocking, he is also conceited enough to believe that others will mold their daily schedules to his whims and convenience. I do believe that your ego is beginning to exceed that of your father's."

"I'm not arrogant," Harry said quietly, his temper rising, "and I just thought --"

"No, Potter, it is obvious you don't think. There are things going on, not only in this castle, but out there in the real world that you know nothing about --"

"Whose fault is that?" Harry fired back, with a sneer to match Snape's.

Snape visibly bristled. _"Legilimens!"_

And they were off.

* * *

Half an hour later, Harry had gotten nowhere. Of course, as he was abysmal at trying to block his mind to begin with, he hadn't expected anything less.

He was on all fours on the cold stone floor, breathing heavily as Snape sighed impatiently. "Up, Potter."

Cursing Snape, Harry shakily stood up. His face was slick with sweat.

"Pitiful. We've been at this for nearly a year and I've yet to see progress," said Snape contemptuously. "Poor Potter… such a failure."

"Oh, really? Guess we have a lot in common," Harry shot back, his anger getting the better of him.

"_Legilimens!"_

It was another slew of embarrassing memories from Muggle grade school. Harry watched as flashes of a younger him was chased around schoolyards and down corridors and shoved into janitor's closets by Dudley and his cronies. Harry was watching his seven year old self get thrown to the ground by Dudley, as a small crowd of schoolchildren looked on and laughed at Dudley taking care of that strange kid when he suddenly found himself on the floor again, his body aching from his numerous falls and his head throbbing with pain. "No more," he whispered.

"What was that, Potter?" Snape asked sharply.

"I said, no more. I'm through. I know this is pointless, you know this is pointless. I quit. You have plenty of ammunition against me, you got what you really wanted." Harry felt utterly defeated. He had failed. But he'd rather take on Voldemort than be forced to go through this several times a week.

"I knew it."

Harry stood up, wincing. His knees hurt like hell. "You knew what?"

"That you wouldn't make it. Too weak."

"I'm not weak!" Harry yelled. "I can't do it, all right? Why waste my time?"

"Because it is not only you we are trying to protect," Snape said shortly. "Of course, I didn't expect you to consider the rest of the student body before you decided it was fine with you if Voldemort managed to possess you from his location."

"And where is he located?" Harry retorted loudly, deciding to ignore Snape's jibe for the moment, "I'm sure you know, you're probably his most trustworthy spy --"

Snape was deathly quiet. Harry knew instantly that he had gone too far.

"No, Potter, I am not a spy for the Dark Lord," Snape said, gritting his teeth, "though I am a spy for the Order. You'd do well to remember that. Now get out of my sight."

Harry left immediately, letting the door slam shut behind him. A tiny part of him, the part that normally spoke in Hermione's voice, was anxiously awaiting Dumbledore's response when he found out Harry was refusing Occlumency. But on the whole he felt that he had done the right thing, though maybe not the right way. He was hopeless at Occlumency, and if he could not master it after two terms' worth of study, he never would.

Harry rested for a bit at the foot of a statue of armor, massaging his painful head before heading to the headmaster's office. Harry gave the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office the new password, 'Pumpkin Pasty,' and stepped onto the revolving staircase. Harry did not hear anything in Dumbledore's office, but figured that he should knock this time.

* * *

Please review! 


	8. Christmas

**Chapter Eight – Christmas**

* * *

Harry sighed contentedly as he gazed out of Ron's bedroom window. A thick layer of snow covered the ground, trees, chicken coop, and shed, making the Weasley's small, ramshackle farm look like a picturesque winter scene from a painting. Combined with the faint smell of food and hot chocolate that had drifted up to the top floor, Harry was feeling rather cheerful.

Harry had always loved Christmas at Hogwarts, but this year, he just wanted to get away from it all. A small part of him knew that he was probably being a little selfish, risking everything to stay at the Burrow for the holidays. He and Dumbledore had talked it over, however, and in the end, agreed that it was best for Harry to live his life as best as he could, because to remain in Hogwarts on the pretense of safety would mean they were letting Lord Voldemort win. It was now Christmas Eve, and Harry was not going to let anyone or anything spoil his holiday.

Quick, light footsteps on the stairs made Harry tear his gaze from the ice-frosted window to the door. He was almost positive that it was Ginny out there on the landing; all of the Weasley males walked heavily, as though punching the floorboards. Mrs. Weasley always walked slowly, as she made her way up to the top floor of the house; she was normally loaded down with laundry or something from the attic.

Sure enough, it was Ginny. "Harry!" she called, knocking on the door, "Mum wants you!"

Harry crossed the room, opened the door, and looked down at her, surprised to find that he was a considerable height taller than he had been the previous year; she hadn't even been an inch shorter than he was back then.

"Mum wants you to come and help set the table," Ginny said, her brown eyes twinkling brightly. A festive green and gold bow held her hair back from her face, which was lit up with her smile. Harry couldn't help but grin back. "She just sent Fred and George outside to clear the walkway; they were driving her mad."

Harry laughed. "So I'm the last resort, eh?"

He followed her down the stairs as they bantered playfully, breathing in the faint, flowery aroma that followed her as they made their way to the bustling kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was dashing about the kitchen, pulling miniature pies out of the oven and shoving more in, and stirring pots on the stove with her wand; Mr. Weasley was supervising two knives as they chopped up meat and vegetables, and Ron, with a slightly disgruntled look on his face, was sorting a mass amount of already-cooked mince pies that were meant as gifts into separate piles. Harry smirked, knowing that part of Ron's displeasure stemmed from Hermione staying at her parents' house until only a few days before they returned to Hogwarts.

"Harry dear, please set the table, would you? And those onions need to be chopped…" a harried Mrs. Weasley called, as she hurried into the adjacent dining room.

Harry helped the Weasley's get ready for the substantial feast, preparing food, setting out plenty of chairs and other random chores; in addition to the Weasley family – minus Percy, of course – a few Order of the Phoenix members were coming over as well, including Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Tonks.

Before he knew it, Harry was seated at the Weasley's magically expanded table, which was laden with mouth-watering meats, stuffings, puddings, and desserts, and surrounded by friends – and really, family.

* * *

Harry woke up the next morning to a small, neat pile of brightly-wrapped presents at the foot of his bed. Ron was already up, torn wrapping paper strewn across his bed and on the floor. He was staring, aghast, at a large book that sat on his lap.

"Ron?" asked Harry, wondering what the problem was.

Ron looked up, his ears brick red. "She… she… she got me a book." He swallowed hard, his eyes disbelieving.

"Er – Hermione?" said Harry, trying to figure out why Hermione's gift to Ron had him in such a snit.

"Yeah," Ron replied faintly, "Hermione."

"And…" Harry prompted.

"I – she – she gave me a _book_. Last year I gave her _perfume_. This year, I got her…" Ron swallowed again, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "I got her a necklace," he whispered, his ears turning, if possible, a shade of brighter red. He would not look at Harry.

Harry smirked and reached over into his pile of presents. "At least you didn't get her a ring."

* * *

The remainder of Christmas Day was spent in leisure; the Weasley's and Harry passed the day comparing gifts, opening Wizarding Christmas crackers, eating leftovers from the day before, and having snowball fights randomly throughout the day. Hermione turned up three days later, much to Ron's delight, which the twins, Bill, and Charlie teased the two endlessly for.

That night, Harry went to bed earlier than usual; he was feeling rather ill. Mrs. Weasley had chalked it up to spending too much time in the wet snow, and immediately sent him upstairs to rest. He fell asleep almost instantly.

He was running as fast as he could through the Forbidden Forest, low branches and brambles whipping at his face and arms, leaving them covered in nicks and bruises. He could hear Lord Voldemort right behind him, laughing that same cold, maniacal laugh that echoed within Harry's head whenever he encountered a Dementor and heard his mother's final moments. No matter how fast Harry ran, Voldemort was right on his tail, though the Dark Lord was not running at all. His mind only on escaping Voldemort, Harry barely registered that Voldemort had stopped laughing and called, "Ah, here come our friends, Potter!"

They had escaped the Forbidden Forest and were now on the edge of the lake. A group of people was walking slowly toward him; shouting for help, Harry darted into the crowd. Harry stopped running and looked around at the people – why hadn't they begun to fight Voldemort? Why had none of them responded to his pleas for help?

Suddenly, Harry's throat closed with terror. Every single one of the people was thin and bony, with hair and skin the sickly white color of death, their eyes cloudy and soulless. Harry's horror intensified sharply as he abruptly realized that these were not just any dead corpses, but people that he knew. People he loved. The Weasleys, Hermione, Dumbledore, Sirius, his parents, Lupin, and even Snape surrounded him, their blank eyes staring at him. They clustered around him, their hands clawing at his robes and grasping his arms and shoulders with surprisingly strong grips. Harry screamed and bit and fought as hard as he could as the dead bodies of his friends and family pulled him about; they appeared to be pulling him towards the lake. Harry fell to the ground with a thump as he struggled fruitlessly to break away from the strong, clammy, cold hands. Harry could hear Voldemort's high, cruel laugh in the background… how his scar hurt… someone was calling his name… who was it?

"Harry! Harry!"

Harry woke up with a start; he was on the floor of Ron's room by his camp bed and surrounded by the Weasley family and Hermione, all of whom were wearing pajamas and scared, concerned looks on their faces.

* * *

**A/N**: Well, how that for quick:) Now for the next half of the year... A daunting task, but I promise you that I'll try my best before Saturday! (Squeeeeee!)

Please review!


	9. Capture

**Chapter Nine – Capture**

* * *

Harry stared up at the blurry faces of the Weasleys and Hermione, his scar faintly burning. He was twisted up in his bedclothes, which he had apparently pulled down to the floor when he fell, and was drenched in cold sweat.

Someone slipped his glasses onto his face, and the worried faces came into sharper focus.

"Harry, what – what happened? Was there an attack? Was it Voldemort?" Hermione asked, the Weasleys flinching at the Dark Lord's name as one.

"I – there wasn't an attack. I think it was just a bad dream." As he spoke, Harry realized that he was shaking like mad.

They had learned about Inferi not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but in the newspapers, as well. Images of his friends' animated corpses kept flashing before his mind's eye, making him shake even harder.

His head pounding and his teeth knocking together in his shock, Harry barely registered Ron and Bill lifting him up and back into his camp bed. He immediately curled up into the fetal position, facing the wall. He wished he could just fall asleep and erase those horrible, blank faces from his mind, yet at the same time he was afraid that if he did fall asleep they would all come back, this time for real.

Harry felt his bed sag down as Mrs. Weasley perched on the edge, and instinctually tensed up as she began to slowly rub his back.

"Off to bed, everyone, Harry's fine," she said firmly. "Ginny dear, will you make a cup of tea and bring it up with a vial of Dreamless Sleep Potion?" Harry could hear several pairs of slipper-clad feet shuffle toward the door, could feel the last glances at him as they made their way back down the stairs to their individual rooms.

He laid there motionless, listening to Mrs. Weasley hum a tune he had never heard before, still not responding to her touch. He still could not get their dead, yet somehow half-alive faces out of his head. The room was silent, but for Mrs. Weasley's humming, and the sounds of Ron and Hermione quietly whispering from Ron's bed. Finally, Mrs. Weasley spoke. "Harry, do you want to talk about it?"

Harry shook his head, focusing on the quick, light footsteps coming up the staircase. No, He did not want to talk about his dream. He had a feeling that this nightmare would be one of those terrible few ones that takes a long, long time to forget.

He listened as Ginny entered the room, gave Mrs. Weasley the cup of hot tea, and sat on Ron's bed with Hermione and Ron. Mrs. Weasley tried to get him to talk again. "Harry, you really need to talk about your nightmare."

Harry sighed. He might as well get it over with. "Voldemort was chasing me," he said, still facing the wall, "he chased me into a group of Inferi. You all were the Inferi."

Mrs. Weasley's hand paused on his back. The only sound in the room was the shallow breathing of himself and his friends.

* * *

Harry Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all returned to Hogwarts without incident when the holidays were over. The professors immediately inundated the students with schoolwork, and before Harry knew it winter the snow and ice of winter had been replaced by spring. Harry spent the Easter holidays with his nose in his various textbooks, though luckily he had been able to keep up in all of his classes so far this term. Though his scar had been rather painful on several occasions since school had restarted, and there had been a close call one day in Transfiguration, Voldemort had not attempted to fully possess him since his detention with Snape, and he had been able to stay out of the hospital wing. 

The month of May brought hot sunshine and summer wildflowers to the Hogwarts grounds, as well as the Quidditch final. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, who was the favorite for the Cup again this year. Harry had swallowed his jealousy and was planning to cheer for the team alongside Hermione up in the stands. Despite his disappointment about not being able to play, he was quite looking forward to the break from studying.

Harry's plans were changed (for the better, he thought) the day before the match, however, when Katie Bell, Co-Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, ran up to him as he made his way to the Great Hall for lunch.

"Harry, we need you to play Seeker tomorrow," Katie panted, her cheeks flushed a light pink.

Both Harry and Ron, beside him, did a double take. "What?" asked Harry incredulously.

"Marcus can't play tomorrow. Potions accident," she added, waving her hand impatiently when Harry opened his mouth to ask why.

Marcus Fisher was the newest addition to the team. Ginny Weasley's replacement as Chaser, the seventh year was a short, slightly pudgy boy with excellent aim.

"We need Ginny to play Chaser, and you're next up for Seeker. I've already talked to McGonagall, and she gave us the okay."

"Excellent!" cried Ron, slapping Harry on the back.

Katie smiled. "We were already the favorite, but we're sure to win now."

Harry grinned widely as Ron and Katie talked excitedly, but paused as he noticed Draco Malfoy over Katie's shoulder; the Slytherin Seeker had an odd, calculating look upon his face.

The next morning Harry suited up with the rest of the Quidditch team, excitement bubbling up in his stomach. He and Ron had practiced for a bit the night before but today was the first time he would be playing Quidditch since autumn.

Out on the pitch, Harry watched the Slytherin Captain try to break Katie's hand as he mounted his broom, the cheers from the crowd (which were particularly vociferous from the Slytherin and Gryffindor sections) ringing in his ears. Harry glanced over at Malfoy; the pale boy was looking rather smug.

Madam Hooch tossed the bright red Quaffle up, and fourteen players clad in either scarlet or green shot into the air.

High above the rest of the game, Harry circled on his Firebolt, looking around for a flash of gold, occasionally dodging Bludgers and other players.

Malfoy was circling the pitch even higher up than Harry was. However, instead of searching for the Snitch, he appeared to be watching Harry. Figuring Malfoy was just planning on tailing him, Harry ignored him.

The score was ninety to one hundred, Gryffindor in the lead, when Harry spotted the Snitch near the Gryffindor stands. He shot toward it, urging his Firebolt to fly faster and faster. Malfoy was right behind him, but he didn't seem to be… fighting to get the Snitch before Harry. It was almost as if the Slytherin Seeker did not really want to catch the Golden Snitch.

Slightly puzzled at Malfoy's odd behavior, Harry reached forward and grasped the Golden Snitch. The roar of the spectators rooting for Gryffindor had just began to reach its loudest yet when Harry suddenly felt a tug around his navel and left the Quidditch pitch in a rush of color.

* * *

A/N: Well, this is it! The next chapter will be the confrontation with Voldy, and there'll probably be one, maybe two chapters left, but two's unlikely. Thanks for sticking with me!

Please review!


	10. Fight and Rescue

**A/N:** So much for getting this published before DH came out, huh? I won't bore you with excuses. I'm off this week, so hopefully I'll find time to finish the final chapter (11) in between getting everything together and ready to move to SHSU. Woot.

Beta read by ddamato.

* * *

**Chapter Ten – Fight and Rescue**

Harry landed hard on his feet, staggered, and fell to his knees. He had just enough time to register that he was in a dark, forested area, surrounded by people in black cloaks and white masks, and that his scar had begun to burn fiercely before he was Disarmed; his wand flew out of his Quidditch robes and was caught by a pale, skeletal hand with abnormally long fingers. Lord Voldemort was standing a mere ten feet away. He stared at Harry with a triumphant, hungry look in his eyes for a moment, and then began to laugh, his high, cruel voice echoing around the clearing. He pointed Harry's own wand at him, and Harry's Firebolt shot out of his hand. Voldemort caught the broomstick and held it out to the Death Eater closest to him. "Severus, I'll give you the pleasure of taking Potter's things. You have been a most faithful servant."

"Thank you, Master," said the voice of Severus Snape, slick with oily supplication, as the double-agent bent into a low bow at Voldemort's feet. Snape waved his wand silently; Harry's wand and Firebolt instantly broke into pieces.

"You bastard!" Harry shouted, the words ripping out of his throat. He should have known that Snape had been a traitor from the beginning.

"Language, Potter," Snape admonished silkily, removing his mask. His dark, fathomless eyes glittered with malice.

"Anything else you'd like to say to young Harry before you go back to Dumbledore?" asked Voldemort loftily.

"Yes, my Lord. _"Crucio!"_

White hot, burning agony shot through Harry's veins, inflamed his bones, and saturated his very skin; the pain was so all-consuming that Harry did not even have the presence of mind to try and stop his screams.

Finally, the pain stopped. Voldemort was laughing. Harry was facedown in the dirt; he immediately rolled over, suppressing a groan, and stood back up. As he did so, he heard the crack of Snape Disapparating.

"So, Potter," Voldemort hissed, "captured once again by my cunning. The Malfoy boy actually succeeded; he was so eager to pay off his father's debts to me. And Severus Snape has long been a faithful servant; he is now back at Hogwarts telling your protector, the great Dumbledore, that I do not have you. Maybe it was a rogue group of Death Eaters, or maybe it was the Ministry of Magic," said Voldemort airily, a smile distorting his vile features even further, "there are plenty of my servants within those governmental offices to get the job done." He began to laugh again, cackling madly, and the circle of Death Eaters surrounding them quickly joined in.

"And now," he continued, his scarlet eyes gleaming in the near darkness, "I finally have you, and there is no escape this time. No mother to die for you, no Dumbledore to protect you, no Portkey. Your wand is lying broken upon the forest floor." Voldemort let out another shout of laughter. "You don't even know where we are, do you, Harry? We are deep in the Forbidden Forest, mere kilometers from the school, from the protections that keep me away from you both physically and mentally." Voldemort began to pace up and down in front of Harry, who was beginning to wonder, his innards feeling as though they were clenched by an icy cold fist, why Voldemort just didn't get it over with.

"Here he is, my faithful servants," said Voldemort, now addressing the Death Eaters, "the Boy Who Lived' – but not for long." A smirk crossed the Dark Lord's face before his eyes narrowed in concentration. _"Crucio!"_

* * *

Harry was lying listlessly upon the forest floor, breathing heavily, his body aching from the relentless Cruciatus Curses cast upon him by Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Slowly, he pulled himself up onto all fours, preparing to stand up again. He had decided a long time ago that he was going to go down fighting. Like his father.

As he made to stand he heard a crack. Someone had Apparated into their midst. Harry raised his head. It was Snape. The Potions master was not alone. Standing beside him was Draco Malfoy. Crumpled at their feet was a third figure, his long white hair glinting in the wandlight. It looked strangely like… but no, it couldn't be…

Malfoy and Snape were on their knees now, kissing the hem of Voldemort's robes. "My Lord," said Snape, "I have brought you the body of Albus Dumbledore. He has died at last."

"NO!" shouted Harry. No, it was not true, it could not be…

"_Silencio!" _Voldemort hissed. With a second flick of his wand, Harry lay not only silent but immobile on the ground.

"Well, the great Albus Dumbledore has finally been beaten," Voldemort gloated. "How did he die, Severus?"

"It must have been heart failure, my Lord. He did not take Potter's disappearance well when we told him." Harry struggled fruitlessly against his invisible bonds. No… not Dumbledore…

Harry forgotten, Voldemort and his followers laughed and jeered, rejoicing that their enemy was finally vanquished, and by the one power he had maintained was truly the most powerful of them all…

Another person they had forgotten was Draco Malfoy. The pale-faced boy was edging toward Harry, the pieces of Harry's broken broomstick and wand in his hands. He knelt down beside Harry's prone form and waved his wand, whispering, _"Finite Incantatum."_ He waved his wand again, and this time Harry's Firebolt and wand suddenly appeared whole, without a mark showing they had just been in pieces. Harry looked up curiously at Malfoy. His eyes were strangely blank, as though he was Confunded, or somehow controlled…

Draco was suddenly illuminated by a bright, green light that was streaking towards them. Harry, who had just sat up, grabbed Malfoy's arm and pulled him flat to the ground. The Killing Curse flew over their heads; Voldemort had noticed them. He began to stride toward them, his red eyes menacing, when a shout rent the air.

"Tom! Tom Riddle! _Legilimens!_"

Everyone turned and stared at Snape and Voldemort, locked in what was surely an intense battle of wills. As Voldemort's faithful followers raised their wands to help their master, Dumbledore suddenly and agilely jumped up and began cursing Death Eaters vigorously. Harry barely noticed Malfoy whisper _"Portus,"_ his Firebolt glowing a bright blue for a split second.

Two masked Death Eaters were running towards Harry and Malfoy; Harry quickly grabbed his wand and Stunned them. As they fell, Harry saw Snape fall to the ground, repelled from Voldemort's mind; Voldemort looked over at the two boys, and Harry's scar burned ferociously with the Dark Lord's anger.

"Potter, the Portkey!" roared Dumbledore. Harry, through the haze of pain and panic, realized abruptly that that man was not the headmaster. Malfoy shoved Harry's Firebolt into his hands, and the two boys were suddenly pulled irresistibly into a swirl of light and color.

But something was wrong… they were still being transported when Harry's body was suddenly not just his own… He was wrapped up, suffocating, in the coils of a creature with red eyes…

Harry felt his body smack against hard stone, felt Voldemort rejoice because although he had not yet killed the boy, he had possessed him, and was now staring up at the faces of Hogwarts students…

Harry could not take it, he was dying, again, he could not take anymore, he wished Death would come for him, deliver him from this excruciating agony, holding out an icy cold hand for him to take… but no, he could not just give up like that, could not just let Voldemort have free reign to destroy his friends… friends… Ron and Hermione…

And suddenly, Harry expelled Voldemort from himself with a strength he did not know he possessed, heard someone shout _"Repellum!"_ Harry felt the world turn icy cold, and quickly succumbed to the surrounding darkness.

* * *

Please review!


	11. The End of Another Year

**A/N:** Finally:) I hope this is a somewhat satisfactory reward for waiting so long! Many apologies for that, by the way. I won't bore you with the multiple excuses. Many thanks to all of those who have reviewed, you all were the reason I continued and finally finished this; and thank you to all of you who have stayed with me from the beginning.

This has not yet been beta read; I will replace it once it has.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven – The End of Another Year**

Pain was radiating from Harry's scar, against which a white hot knife was surely slicing through the skin, twisting, trying its best to dig into his skull, the very bone. Someone was screaming, screaming as though they were dying; if he could only escape this excruciating pain, then he could go get help, save them from whatever was causing them such horrible pain and misery… Then, through the thick, dark red haze of pain that blinded him and hid the outside world, Harry felt someone tightly grasp his shoulders; the hazy redness lessened slightly, and he could hear snatches of conversation in between the screams that pressed against his ears.

"What's happening?"

"Severus, you said that spell was supposed to block the connection!"

"It was! Potter, focus! Focus!"

_Focus? He was supposed to focus? On what?_

Someone removed a hand from his shoulder and roughly grabbed his face; he must have been moving his head. It was funny how he didn't realize what he was doing.

"Potter, close your mind!"

_Close his mind? To the pain? How?_

Vaguely, he felt someone lift his eyelid.

"Severus, Voldemort is no longer possessing him, look at his eyes."

"… don't understand…"

"Where's Dumbledore?"

The pain was obscuring him again as it intensified in jabs and spikes. Harry felt his stomach roil, and then choked as acidic vomit filled his throat and mouth.

Then all was dark. Again.

* * *

The first sensation Harry felt was warmth; it was so different from the icy cold darkness that he had been lost in that waking up felt rather like swallowing a mouthful of butterbeer. Then, as though that first feeling had sparked a fire, Harry was suddenly aware that a bright light was piercing his eyes through his shut eyelids, there was a sour, slightly metallic taste on his tongue, which contrasted sharply with the burning sensation in his throat, and that his body was aching and heavy, as though it was filled with lead; his head felt like it was made of stone rather than flesh and blood. 

He supposed that he should open his eyes and find out exactly what the hell was going on, but it was so much easier to just lie on this soft surface and remain oblivious. Yet just as he decided to remain in his present state of oblivion, vague memories of Snape, Voldemort, and a dead Dumbledore, who was somehow alive, threatened his peaceful state of mind. Slowly, he dragged his eyelids open. A blurry person was seated next to his bed, apparently reading a book. He tried to turn his head toward him, but the slight movement made his head pound and he could not suppress a groan. The person – a man – looked up sharply. "Harry?"

The man jumped up upon seeing that Harry was conscious, and in seconds Harry did not only have his glasses, but a sip of water, as well. Able to focus, Harry saw that the man was Lupin.

"'Lo," Harry rasped, wincing as the half-word scraped up his throat as he said it.

Lupin let him take another drink of water, concern evident on his face. "It's good to see you awake. These past two days have been a little scary. How're you feeling?"

Harry let out a raspy laugh that made his head pound even more. "Like Dudley fell on me."

Lupin's worried grimace twitched briefly. "From what I hear, that doesn't sound like it would be pleasant."

Harry gazed around the deserted hospital wing. "Where is everyone?"

"Well, as it is not even quite seven o'clock yet, the large majority of the castle is either still asleep or beginning to get their breakfast in the Great Hall. Both Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape should be here shortly," said Lupin, checking his wristwatch.

"Dumbledore," Harry said suddenly. "I thought he was dead, but then – "

"It was a diversion," Lupin said, cutting Harry off. "Professor Dumbledore knew that there was a possibility that Voldemort might try to possess you if – and as – you were being transported back to Hogwarts, so Kingsley Shacklebolt went instead, disguised by Polyjuice Potion, as a dead Dumbledore, who had been too weak to deal with the horror and pressure of your second kidnapping. Not to say that he wasn't worried – God, we all were – but Dumbledore's supposed death, proving his 'weakness', boosted Voldemort's ego and took his mind off of you – which I am sure that you noticed. And with Dumbledore waiting for your return to Hogwarts, he was able to anticipate Voldemort's being transported to the school with yourself. He was able to repel Voldemort from your mind almost immediately, with a spell created by Professor Snape."

Harry nodded, and when a sharp pain radiated through his skull, he decided not to do that again. His eyes began to slip shut, and, blinking rapidly, he tried to keep them open; he had so many more questions. What had happened to Snape? Kingsley? Malfoy? Where was Voldemort now? But Lupin merely shook his head. "Get some sleep, Harry."

* * *

When Harry opened his eyes, the only light was emanating from the oil lamps hanging from the walls of the hospital wing and sitting upon his bedside table. Lupin was gone, but the fuzzy shapes of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all seated around his bed, bent over books and scrolls of parchment. Harry licked his dry lips. "Did I miss the study group memo?" 

Hermione jumped up with a squeak. "Harry!" She took no notice as her enormous book, parchment, and inkwell slipped from her lap and onto the floor, black ink splashing all over her lengthy essay and copy of _History of Magic_. "How're you feeling? Do you need water? Here are your glasses," she asked rapidly, slipping his glasses onto his face.

"Water," Harry said hoarsely.

After a long drink of the cold, sweet water, and a dose of pain medication that Madam Pomfrey had prescribed upon his return to consciousness, Harry asked if they knew what had happened.

All three of them frowned and rolled their eyes. "No," said Ginny bitterly, "No one would tell us anything once you disappeared. Dumbledore and Snape took Malfoy off the pitch immediately, and the Heads of Houses made us return to our Houses. Then that evening, at dinner, both you and Draco Malfoy show up in the middle of the Great Hall, and…"

"Were you being possessed?" asked Hermione; her voice was blunt, but her brown eyes betrayed her concern and fear of the answer. Ron, who had been staring at anywhere but Harry while Ginny spoke, looked up sharply.

Harry paused. "Yes," he said reluctantly, speaking to his bedside table. "I – this isn't the first time it's happened. He possessed me last year, at the Ministry, and it's what he's been trying to do this year. He's been trying to possess me from a distance. And he was finally able to do it; he possessed me before I passed through the protective wards." He looked up at their pale faces. "You know where I was taken when I touched that Portkey? The Forbidden Forest. The damn Forbidden Forest."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Harry shifted slightly. The pain medication had helped with the pounding in his head, but did nothing for the soreness that resided in the rest of his body. He opened his mouth.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione breathed. "You – "

Ron held up his hand. "Let the man finish."

Harry looked gratefully at his best friend. Ron always seemed to know when Harry needed to stop and when he needed to keep going; right now Harry needed this poison, these horrible memories, to be extracted and diluted, made easier to bear. He needed them, his best friends, who he knew would follow him anywhere, to know exactly why Harry had to find Voldemort and defeat him. He swallowed. "I have to tell you all something, and I have to start at the beginning. Before I was born, a prophecy was made…"

* * *

The sun was once again poking his eyes with its bright rays when Harry awoke the next morning; the only differences was that he felt slightly better, and this time his company was composed of not only Lupin, but Dumbledore and a pale Snape, also. The three men were standing at the foot of Harry's cot, talking quietly. 

Not wanting to bother them, Harry made to lift himself into a sitting position so that he could find his glasses and get a cup of water on his own. To his dismay, however, he quickly found out that his head still objected to any concentrated movement, and his failure to stifle a moan alerted the professors to his state.

"Idiot boy," Snape snapped, "You – "

"Severus," said Dumbledore sternly. "Remember what we talked about yesterday?"

Snape shut his mouth, an unpleasant look on his face. "Yes, Albus," he replied sourly. Then he turned sharply and left the hospital wing, his black robes billowing behind him.

"What was that about, Professor?" Harry asked once he had his spectacles on and had had a glass of water.

"Severus is worried about his blown cover. Not only is he no longer of much use to the Order, but in addition to Voldemort, now the large majority, if not all, of the Death Eaters know of his betrayal. He must now take extreme care in regard to his life."

"What happened to Kingsley after I was brought back here?" Harry asked.

"From what he himself and Professor Snape told me, he fought admirably against the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself before Apparating with Professor Snape to safety."

"And Malfoy?"

"Draco Malfoy is still here at Hogwarts, unaware that he aided in your escape, having been Confunded and his memory modified, and is being closely watched by the staff."

"But – why is he still here? He turned the Snitch into a _Portkey_. He – he wants me dead! He – "

"Would you not be even more worried if you did not know where he was, if you did not know whether or not he was far away or close by? The old adage is correct, Harry: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. Remember that, Harry."

Dumbledore fell silent. After a moment, Harry looked up. "I'm going to defeat him, Professor."

The headmaster looked up, piercing him with his bright blue eyes. "Yes, Harry, you will."

* * *

Harry spent the rest of the day and the next in the hospital wing; he had been an obedient patient for Madam Pomfrey, on the promise that the next morning he could go back to Gryffindor Tower. 

That night Harry laid in his bed listlessly; the sky had long ago grown dark, his friends had left to fall asleep in their own beds, and he was now waiting for the pain potion Madam Pomfrey had just given him to kick in. When he heard footsteps come toward his bed, he assumed it was the nurse. "What now?" he asked, injecting a little jauntiness into his voice so that she would know he wasn't being disrespectful. Instead of the friendly nurse, however, the face that looked down at him disdainfully was the face of Severus Snape.

Harry jerked to the opposite side of the bed, both in shock and, embarrassingly, in instinctive reaction. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"What do you want?" asked Harry defensively.

"I came to inform you that we will no longer have Occlumency lessons the remainder of this term. We will begin again in September."

"Why?" Harry asked. With Voldemort's successes this year, Harry would have expected the complete opposite.

The Potions Master's lips twisted in a sour grimace. "The Dark Lord is now concerned about betrayal in his own ranks; if my cover being blown did anything positive, it has temporarily taken his focus off of you. Afraid of more traitors among the Death Eaters, he is now more secretive than ever, and from what I hear, interrogations of even his most faithful. The Headmaster is also concerned about your health," said Snape, the tone of his voice suggesting that he felt the headmaster's concern was groundless.

"Where is Vol- You-Know-Who?" asked Harry, quickly correcting his slip of the tongue.

"Our source tells us that he has taken over Malfoy Manor. And yes, Draco Malfoy will be returning to his home over the summer holidays," Snape added, apparently anticipating Harry's next question. "He will be closely watched."

Harry opened his mouth, to ask the question that had been bothering him from the moment he had awoke – why had Snape been a double agent in the first place? – when the strong pain potion finally entered his bloodstream. His sore brain and muscles seemed to sigh in relief as the blissful numbness spread. No longer able to articulate his query, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the mattress. He vaguely felt someone remove his glasses before everything went dark.

* * *

"Bloody hell, what're they thinking, giving us this much homework over the holidays?" Ron asked indignantly a couple of weeks later, as he and Harry packed their trunks. Classes were over, and they would be leaving Hogwarts the next day. Ron was gazing, horrified, at the assignment sheets each of their professors had given them, listing the books to be read and the essays to be written. "I might as well be writing my own book, look at all of these inches we have to write!" 

"Sounds like their out to kill you, mate," Harry quipped, throwing his clothes haphazardly into his trunk.

Ron sighed. "Yeah," he said miserably. Then he paused and turned to look at Harry, a calculating look upon his face. "Hey – are you planning on coming back next year? I mean, are we going to finish our seventh year, or we going to go after You-Know-Who?"

Harry paused. He had thought about both options, and he had still not come to a decision. "Let's see what happens this summer. So go ahead and do your homework."

"Damn. Well, it was worth a shot," said Ron dryly.

* * *

The next day Harry found himself squinting in the bright sunlight as he stepped off of the Hogwarts Express at King's Cross. Pulling his trunk with one hand, and Hedwig, sleeping in her cage in his other, Harry followed his friends toward their parents, the Grangers standing nervously beside Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Fred and George, who were dressed in robes that flashed in reds, oranges, maroons, and pinks that all clashed horribly with their copper-colored hair. 

Mrs. Weasley was fussing over Ron and Hermione, whose hands had not separated quickly enough. "When did this happen? Ronnie, why didn't you write? Oh, I was waiting for the day this would happen!"

Harry was snickering at Ron and Hermione's mortified faces when he felt a warm hand tug at his arm. "Hey, come over here for a moment." It was Ginny.

Harry followed her through the barrier and over to a vacant area, where she turned to face him. She appeared to be steeling herself. "Harry, when you were telling us of your plans to defeat Voldemort – I was just wondering, was I included in your plans? I mean, I completely understand if you don't want me to go, you're much better friends with Ron and Hermione, and I would just get in your way – "

"Yes, you're coming – that is, if you want to," Harry interrupted. It was true, he wasn't nearly as good of friends with her as he was with Ron and Hermione, but he strangely found himself wanting her with him as much as he did the other two. "I don't have any clear plans yet, but I'll write over the summer."

Ginny grinned prettily. "Great. And I'm sure you'll be at the Burrow by summer's end."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the Dursleys waiting for him impatiently. "I sure hope so."

Harry turned to the remaining Weasleys and Hermione, who had just come through the barrier. "We'll have you over as soon as Dumbledore says so," said Mrs. Weasley cheerfully as she enveloped him in a tight embrace. "You are, as usual, entirely too thin."

"I think my prominent cheekbones make me look more dashing," Harry replied cheekily, smiling as his friends failed miserably to stifle snorts. "What?"

He was going back to the Dursleys, but his spirits could not be low: though he had a dark journey ahead of him, and no clear plans on how and when to start that journey, he had something that many people, not to mention Voldemort, did not. Friends – faithful, amazing friends, better friends than he ever could have imagined while growing up alone, friends that would follow him until the bitter end. Without them, he could do nothing.

* * *

**A/N:** Well, that's it! I hope all of your questions were answered; if not, be sure to ask me in a review. I will not be writing a sequel for many reasons, one of which being good ol' college. However, I am willing to let those of you who desire to to write a sequel of your own, with my permission. Just ask me in a review or an email. If you don't get my permission and I see a sequel being posted on any of the many fanfiction sites I visit (I still read fanfiction when I have time at school), I will report you to the site for plagiarizing. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, I certainly did.

Please review, thanks for everything, and have a safe and Happy New Year!


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